


all of us as one

by Jerevinan



Series: Ghost Dad AU [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fatherhood, Fluff, Gen, Ghosts, M/M, dad fic, ghost dads, guardian angel (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 23:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13601175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerevinan/pseuds/Jerevinan
Summary: Ignis has someone who often acts like a guardian angel, watching over him. But sometimes his advice always comes a little too late.





	all of us as one

**Author's Note:**

> It's probably a good idea to read "here we are together" first, before reading this one. Victor is an adopted child Ignis is raising with ghost!Noctis.
> 
> This is what I came up with for the guardian angel prompt for ignoctweek, but it's a pretty loose interpretation. ^^

“Ignis, watch your step.”

“I assure you, I always watch my step.” Ignis huffs and slows down his speed. “More so the last fifteen years than ever before.”

“Yeah, but there’s—” 

The sole of Ignis’ shoe slides against something sticky on the marble floors, and he lets out an exasperated noise—something between a sigh and a groan. He backs up and reaches for his handkerchief. 

“It’s ice cream,” says Noctis. “Nothing too gross.”

Ignis leans against the wall and bends his knee to wipe down the sole of his shoe. “Who gave him ice cream?”

“Cor.”

“Kids are spoiled because you can’t discipline the marshal,” laments Ignis. “He should have asked permission. How bad is the floor?”

“Only a little. But I bet Victor’s a mess. Kind of like me, when I was little.”

“ _Exactly_ like you. He even has Cor wrapped around his finger.” Ignis bunches up the handkerchief and shoves it back in his pocket. He ought to wheel around a cart filled with cleaning supplies. Children are perpetually messy. They always catch colds that lead to dripping noses, put their fingers on everything, give too-wet kisses, and aim their vomit at the most expensive decor. Ignis can handle it—has dealt with worse—but the Citadel is a big canvas for Victor to paint in dirt and germs. Too big, hopefully, until he’s older and Ignis can make him clean up after himself.

For this mess, Ignis ought to assign janitorial duties to the marshal.

“I’d clean it up, but…”

Ignis can _hear_ Noctis shrug. 

“Excuses, excuses,” teases Ignis. There are far too few moments where he can find humor in Noctis’ being a ghost. Most of the time, it hurts—even when he is grateful to have him there. “You’re the worst guardian angel. You could have said it was a puddle earlier.”

“Sorry.” Instead of sincerity, the apology is laced with laughter.

Ignis presses against one wall to avoid the mess. He follows the muffled giggles and responses in the distance. They haven’t traveled far. Victor isn’t even a loud child, but at least his voice carries well—sometimes, Ignis struggles just to hear Cor breathe. 

“Ah, there you are,” says Cor as Ignis turns into one of the sitting rooms. 

“Daddy!” Victor’s voice gurgles from the ice cream in his mouth. He doesn’t shoot across the room to latch onto Ignis’ leg, either, which suggests he’s likely wriggling around on a chair with the dripping cone. 

“I hope he isn’t making a mess of the leather furniture,” says Ignis. “There’s a puddle down the hallway. I stepped in it.” He lifts his shoe up to show Cor. All the way from the mess to the sitting room, he could feel the stickiness squelching against the marble floors.

“Sorry, Daddy.” Victor doesn’t sound all that contrite. Why should he, when he is still delightedly enjoying his treat? Besides, Ignis can’t expect a four-year-old to have the foresight to not eat ice cream before dinner and take care not to drip it. 

“I’ll clean up the mess,” says Cor, and he leaves the room. No one else is able to do it except perhaps the daytime janitor, who has long since gone home.

“Victor,” says Ignis gently, kneeling beside the chair. “Why don’t you sit up and eat it a bit faster before it melts?”

The boy stills, the squeal of his movements on the leather go silent. Ignis is asking the impossible of Victor. Since learning to walk, his son has sprinted across every hall and flopped upside-down in every chair. The best thing Ignis can hope for is that Cor returns with a bit of leather upholstery cleaner so they can wipe it down. 

“Victor,” says Noctis. “Listen to Daddy.”

The leather squeaks, and Ignis hears the tap of socked heels against the frame of the chair.

“How messy is the chair?” asks Ignis, directing the question at Noctis.

“It’s clean,” says Victor. It isn’t meant as a lie, but a child’s perception of what is filthy is much different than Ignis’. 

“A few drips. Easy to wipe off. His face and hands are really sticky, though.”

Ignis leans forward and ruffles his son’s hair. “What flavor did you get?” He knows from the smell he wiped off his shoe earlier, but he likes to ask.

“Strawberry!”

“Best choice, Vicky,” says Noctis. “That was my favorite when I was little. And Daddy’s was mint chocolate chip.”

“You referred to it as ‘green’ ice cream. And it wasn’t my favorite, but you always stole a lick if I ate any other flavors, so I went with the one you didn’t like.”

“It’s toothpaste with chocolate!”

The declaration made Victor burst into laughter.

“Yes, and I imagine it was hard enough on your father to get you to brush your teeth.”

“One of the perks of being a ghost is you don’t have to anymo—” Noctis lowers his voice. “Cor’s headed back.”

Ignis can sense Noctis retreating to a corner of the room. The grin remains on his face even when Cor returns. 

“Did I miss something?” 

“No,” says Ignis. “I was simply telling Victor how much I needed a guardian angel to keep me from stepping in puddles of ice cream.”

“Hey, I tried to tell you,” grumbles Noctis, and Victor begins to laugh even harder. 

“It’s cleaned up now,” says Cor. “I’ll clean up the chair when he’s done. If he finishes.” A few cautious steps forward and then an amused hum. “It’s nothing but liquid now.”

“Not done!”

“Of course not,” says Ignis, sighing. “I’ll clean you up afterward, and then I’m going to lecture the marshal about taking you out for ice cream so close to dinner without telling me.” Ignis turns to Cor and frowns.

“He looks like Noctis sometimes,” says Cor, his voice soft and full of the same nostalgia Ignis is feeling after talking about favorite flavors of ice cream with Noctis. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Being blind keeps you from seeing those adorable puppy eyes,” chips in Noctis.

“You should have developed an immunity. Really, Cor.” 

Cor snorts. “Did you?”

“No.” Ignis says it at the same time as Noctis, but Cor doesn’t hear the echoing voices. If Ignis were telling the truth, he still can’t resist Noctis. Except, apparently, when trying to ignore advice to watch his step.


End file.
